She Was Never Yours
by Memory in Crimson
Summary: He should have never brought her to his master. He should have never let the other priest know that she existed. (A short story featuring broken-hearted Mizushipping)


"She Was Never Yours"

He should have never brought her to his master in his bedchamber. He should have never allowed the other priest to know that she existed and that she wielded a tremendous power, hidden beneath her frail body, her gentle voice, and soft kowtows. If Seto had known better, just as he almost always did, she would have remained his secret.

She would have remained _his_.

When the young woman had awoken, Seto had wanted to take her to the underground arena immediately. He wanted to see if her _ka_ was as mighty as that exiled drunkard had alleged, as fearsome as his colleague Shada had witnessed. While he had sensed no greatness from this weak, defenseless foreigner, he was willing to experiment on any person, to follow any lead to his goal: a power to rival the _ka_ of the thief and perhaps even the gods of the Great Pharaoh.

Instead, he had sneaked the woman to Akhenaden's bedchamber. The older priest had awoken from his own assault hours after she. Seto wanted the wisest of the high priests to see her and give his opinion.

"With the Great Pharaoh still missing," said Seto, "we must hasten our other search for a powerful _ka_."

"I agree, Seto," said Akhenaden to the young priest's surprise; for just an hour before the thief had attacked Akhenaden, he had warned Seto to cease the _ka_ hunt. He had likened it to walking the path to darkness.

Perhaps the attack had knocked some sense into the often merciful priest and judge. They were at war, after all. The thief had made that clear with his flagrant disregard for _ma'at_; for the living god they called Pharaoh; and for the priests who upheld the divine order.

"My lord," said Seto, "I believe that I have found someone with a power to rival Bakurah. I wanted to _test_ her first, but when I heard you had awoken, I wanted to receive your insight beforehand."

The older priest nodded wearily, and the young priest commanded the guards to let the woman enter. She peered in cautiously, like a beast near an open field, and with a nudge from one of the guards, she tread softly inside.

The woman was malnourished; so thin that Seto could have sworn he heard her bones rattling. Pale-skinned, she had a pinkish glow, clearly vulnerable to the sun. And whereas Akhenaden's hair was greying, her hair was already many times whiter than his. The only things remotely attractive and ostentatious were her blue eyes; clear and brilliant like precious stones, into which one could gaze all night and all day.

Bowing deeply before the priests, the young woman did not lift her head until addressed; and even then, she kept her eyelids low and her eyes on the ground.

"Woman, what is your name?" asked Seto.

"I am called Kisara, lord," she said. "I am indebted to you for saving my life. You have my eternal gratitude."

"Humph!" Seto had heard such empty thanks from others. He thought nothing of it.

"Do you know why I had you brought here?" asked Seto.

"No, lord," said Kisara, and Seto harrumphed again. Of course, she did not; the question was merely a formality, the introduction to an introduction.

"One of my colleagues believes that you possess a great power," he continued, "a white dragon with the power of a god."

When Kisara lifted her head, her blue eyes shone wide and brilliant. She replied, "Lord, I do not know of what you speak. A white dragon? The power of the gods? I am just the daughter of poor foreigners from a nation beyond Lower Egypt. I am not made of greatness, and I shall probably never know it."

Akhenaden hummed loudly, and his right eye twitched. Pushing himself to the edge of the bed, he gazed at the woman, whose eyes became twice as wide. Had she offended him? wondered Seto. Perhaps their meeting had been premature.

"Young lady," said Akhenaden, "this lowly feeling you have - as though you are never destined for greatness - you would be surprised at the company who shares your despair."

Then he gazed at Seto with that weary eye, but some other, darker element lurked inside. Seto had no word for it then, but he felt unsettled; for this thing, whatever it was, made Akhenaden unlike himself.

"Seto, I would like to address the woman in private," he said.

Frozen by that strange gaze, Seto could think of no reply. No, he would say, he did not feel comfortable leaving her alone. No, he would say, it would be better if he remained in case help was needed. And of course, his 'no' would be a 'With all due respect, Lord Akhenaden,' but nothing left his lips; nothing but:

"As you wish, Lord Akhenaden," and he turned and departed with the guards.

As much as he should have returned to other matters in the meanwhile, Seto remained in a nearby hall, pacing and waiting. A quarter of an hour doubled and then was join by a third. The three quarters became a full hour; and eventually, with reluctance, Seto departed, called to address matters related to the missing Pharaoh.

At the end of one hour and one half, Seto made his hurried return to his master's chamber.

"Is everything all right, Lord Akhenaden?" he asked.

Indeed, all was well. The young woman sat on the end of Akhenaden's bed, and between the two, a tray of figs, plums, melon, and cucumbers. Caught off guard, they sat stiffly and stared wide-eyed at him before relaxing.

"It shall be," replied Akhenaden before smiling weakly. "I am trying to put more flesh on Kisara's bones; for a woman who supports such a strong _ka_ is like she who carries a child. If her _khat_ is unfed, then so starves her _ba_, and therefore, she cannot nourish the other spirit within her."

Kisara tittered behind her petite hand, ceasing when Seto focused upon her.

The young priest said, "You mean that you have seen her _ka_? That you have seen the white dragon?"

The priest became instantly solemn, and the shadow that Seto had seen before, the element that instilled unease, suddenly appeared. He walked outside with Seto in tow, and in a low voice replied:

"That woman carries a god with enough power to rival Diabound - enough power to rival the three legendary gods!"

"What?" Seto gaped and listened as closely as he could, his mind reeling at the revelation.

"She did not know what a _ka_ was at first. After I spoke to her, she let me peer inside her heart; and when I did, I was nearly attacked by a tremendous creature - a white dragon with blue eyes. I lost consciousness for a moment, as did she, and she was terrified when she awoke. She was afraid that I would call the guards in, accuse her of witchcraft, and have her executed."

"Why did you not seek me?" asked Seto with his voice raised. "This is just the good news we need during these dark hours!"

Akhenaden hummed, and the shadow that had fallen over him retreated. He smiled softly and replied, "I have been trying to comfort her. She was so scared, and I assumed that a light meal might calm her nerves. And do not fear - I had her hide in the garden when the servants came and left. I know that you wish to keep her a secret, Seto, and I have been keeping her safe. But I have also been showing her hospitality. She is a guest, after all, not one of the captive criminals from your hunt."

"Right… a guest…." said Seto, but even when the shadow had vanished from Akhenaden, Seto's unease had not. Since Bakurah had attacked the older priest, since he had awoken, his personality seemed changed. His very spirit had changed, as though two men dwelt inside his body.

As the priests returned inside the chamber, Kisara sat attentively.

"Do my lords require anything of me?" she asked, though her eyes only met Akhenaden.

"Only that you eat well and rest," said Akhenaden. "Enough hearts in this palace are troubled with heaviness; for the hours are heavy with darkness. But I think that at least one heart in these halls should be light."

Kisara smiled and replied, "You are most kind, lord, truly."

Seto suppressed a sneer as his master leaned closely to kiss her forehead. Though he was not superior enough to rebuke Akhenaden, Seto thought the kiss unbecoming of the man and uncharacteristic. He had enough people to manage, from the guards to his colleagues; to the missing Pharaoh; to the thief in hiding; and to this woman with a god lurking within her. Did he seriously need to watch his mentor as well, a man who should have been able to regulate his own behavior?

Instead of constantly watching him, though, Seto let him be. Kisara pleased the older priest, whose change seemed more and more obvious. Just as a shadow hung above the palace, so too did a darkness hang above Akhenaden. His words had become laced with vengeance, and his gaze left a chill in many a soul. Only in the company of the gentle peasant did he show any improvement: dining in his private garden with her, having her brush his long hair, anointing healing oils upon her bruised and weathered flesh.

Seto began to worry, though, that their relationship was becoming too intimate. He kissed her forehead and her hands often, and she returned the affection in kind. When Seto returned her to her cell, her blue eyes would linger upon the leader of the high priests.

"I shall always be grateful to you," she would say to Seto, "but you have your duties to which to attend, and he - he tends to my spirit."

"And does his tending help your spirit?" he would ask.

Kisara paused. Her face flushed, and she placed her petite fingers over her delicate mouth.

"Y… Yes, lord," she would reply with the faintest of smiles. "Any man that nourishes my spirit may claim it as his own."

Seto would sneer, but as he dwelt on her words, a new unease crept into his soul. What if instead of mere poetry, Kisara's words rang with truth? Saving her life was not enough. This he knew from a like situation; for his father had died in battle when he was too young to remember him. He felt no connection to the man who had given him life but instead was close to him whom had nourished his spirit and encouraged him to be great:

Lord Akhenaden, the same man who then nourished Kisara's spirit.

By nature, Seto was not as nurturing. He doted on none and tried to keep his emotional attachments to a minimum. His impartiality as a pillar of _ma'at_ depended on it. But as a result, Kisara did not look at him with the same devotion. Oh, surely she addressed him with the appropriate titles and bowed with the utmost humility. But his authority was to be respected by default. He wanted more.

Seto had come realize his true desire to late, though.

The day he finally decided to approach her with softened personality, she was not caged in her cell. Akhenaden had released her again, and for all his kindness, she rewarded him with more than chaste kisses and innocent embracing.

The god would never be his. _She _would never be his.

He should have never brought her to him. He should have kept her presence secret from the other priest. In time, his master would give him the god, wresting it from the young woman's body; but it was never the god that Seto had truly desired.


End file.
